Against the Clock
by GiveMeEverything
Summary: Brittany week Day 3: In which Santana gambles all her time away and there's really only one other person who can save her. Glee/In Time crossover


Against the clock

In which Santana gambles all her time away and there's really only one other person who can save her. Glee/In Time crossover

You knew you would die one day and not in the same way most people know they are going to die. No, you've never believed you'd die old with family and friends surrounding you. You don't even believe you'll get to the age of forty at the rate you're going.

The rough work and tiring days aren't the things that are going to suck the time out of you. It's your impaired judgment and reckless way of living that is going to cause you to expire before your time.

Time. It's a strange world you live in. You can earn it, you can steal it, you can give it away but you can't stretch it. You can't make one minute longer than one minute, you can't make it stop. And now that you have so little of it left, you're starting to think you should have spent it better.

The cold piece of metal pressed to your ear makes a connection and you breathe a little bit easier. This, calling, is the hardest thing to do. You don't want to do it yet you know it's your last resort. No one will come for you – and even though you know there's only a few hours chance, she's the only chance you have.

"Santana, you can't keep calling me like this." The sound of her voice is weary like you've been fighting each other forever and she just wants it to be over. You swallow, trying to lubricate your dry throat so your next words are not misunderstood.

"I'm running out of time, please help me." It's the best you can do before you inhale deeply and focus on breathing. This, time, is your life source. The less of it you have, the less functional you are. You only have the ability to lay still and listen to her tell you that you've been asking too much of her.

You know it's all true. You didn't treat her right, you were an ass but right now she's all you've got.

"Brittany, I don't have much longer. I need you." The green florescent lights on your arm are ticking down slowly. "Less than two hours, I have less than two hours."

* * *

Two nights before:

"Hey Joe, one here for my girl Lopez," you hate it when Puck calls you his girl. Maybe you were a long time ago before you knew you weren't into guys like him or guys in general, but you haven't been anyone's girl in a long time.

"Shut it Puck, how many times have I told you not to call me that?" you take the drink offered to you and leave him at the bar in search of a table - hopefully one that's already full so your personal shoulder angel will have to sit somewhere else.

"Don't be like that Lopez; I have to tolerate your sulky face all day. I got you a beer, be happy." He doesn't stop following you and you give in. There are two empty spots at the table where Artie, Sam and Finn are chilling.

"Hard day at the factory Lopez?" Finn Hudson laughs. You know he's doing it on purpose. Just because you're a girl doesn't mean you're the weaker sex or that you can't assemble more switches than he can.

"How many days have you gone without injuring yourself or somebody else Hudson?" You fire back, "Wasn't it just last week that you glued your finger to a circuit board?" Everybody laughs at his expense and it makes you feel good. "You're good Lopez," Artie pats you on the back and you let out a deep contented sigh. This is how it's supposed to be on a Friday night, just being one of the boys and picking up a random to sleep with. That's a perfect Lopez night-off.

The door to the Joe's opens with a ring. But you're taking a swig of beer at the same moment the new person walks by so you don't see who it is.

"Dude isn't that the girl you used to seriously bang?" It sounds absurd to be seriously banging anybody but Puck is as correct as he can get.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see her." You look in the other direction because even though you were banging her, you were also serious – somewhat serious. It's not your fault you messed up, you've never done serious before and it was a mistake.

"Hey, you want to start the betting early?" Sam winks. Usually you're into your third beer before someone throws out a dare.

"I got a good one; I bet ten hours Lopez can't get blondie at twelve o'clock to sleep with her tonight."

"She'll never agree to that," Artie hugs his chest, "She's the daughter of Mr. Pierce, our employer?" The mutters of agreement around the table only make Puck's smirk grow.

"You guys don't know? Lopez has already been in those pants."

"Oh shut it, will you ever learn to mind your own business?" You scowl at him. He may be your friend but he's the biggest ass you know.

"She has? Dude I respect that," Finn grins like a walrus, "I'm in, ten hours says you can't tap that again tonight."

Sam joins in as well for no other reason than because the other guys are doing it. "You want in too?" You ask Artie who shakes his head.

"Fine, all of you get ready to pay up." Even before you get up from your seat you know it's a bad idea. But this is how you are, impulsive and incredibly stupid. You act before you think and it's caused you shit nearly every time. Still here you are, getting off your seat and walking towards her.

You huff and put on your game face. It's no secret that you are charming and get more attention from the girls than any of the guys you hang out with. It worked on Brittany Pierce once before so there's no reason it won't work now.

"Do you always dress like you're going to walk the catwalk? I never get bored of seeing you dolled up." You give her your best smile when she turns to face you.

"Santana, I don't want to talk to you when you're like this." The indifference hurts a little bit but you've lived through that kind of hurt and you've come out alive.

"That's fine by me, we can use body language," you reach out to touch her, watching her flinch but not moving away. "Right now my fingers are saying they miss you."

"So your fingers miss me but you don't?" You can tell she's mad but holding back. That's just the way she is, soft of speech and slow to wrath.

"I miss you too of course, every now and then I think of you and I… I can't help but," you leave her hanging on your every word. It works on most girls; your smooth, raspy voice. It works on her too as her jaw clenches and she leans into you slightly. It's only a small change in posture but you know what it means. She wants you.

"You can't help but what Santana?"

"I can't help seeing you, even when I'm with other girls." Without warning, the slap comes and you find yourself crouching on the floor. "Brittany wait!" You rush out the door past looks of shock that you've addressed her improperly. To the rest of them she's Ms. Pierce, daughter of Mr. Pierce, owner of Pierce Industry's and all things electronic in your world.

"Brittany, come on…I thought it'd make you really hot." You can see her veins nearly popping out of her neck as she paces the sidewalk.

"I don't know why I put up with you Santana; I don't know what I see in you." If you're honest, you've asked those questions a million times in your head. You are an assembly line worker with a salary of thirty hours per day. You are the lowliest of the lowliest, the bottom of the pile. It seems the only gift you have is wooing women into your bed.

"You ask too many questions Brittany, we work better when it's you and me in bed and there's no talking." There it is again, the asshole in you talking. You don't know what else to say, you don't do feelings. And you still kind of have a mission to fulfill. "I'm irresistible and the best sex you've ever had. It's that simple." Once upon a time it wasn't that simple and it broke you. You weren't ready for a relationship and when you woke up one morning in Brittany's bed realizing you had agreed to be the girlfriend of your employer's daughter you panicked – and then you made the biggest mistake of your life but you were too proud to admit it.

"Screw you Santana, I'm leaving."

"Well why did you come in the first place?" You stand all cocky and sure of yourself when really you want to know why she's come back here at all. It couldn't be for you, no woman in her right mind would seek you out after what you did to her.

"It doesn't matter. I just came to say goodbye." It kind of sounds like a big deal like she's going somewhere and never coming back but you don't comprehend that. All you know is that she's walking away and you're about to lose thirty hours for it.

"Hey, can I at least come to your place and give you a proper send off?" You've overstepped the line and she's turning around, walking towards you at full pace.

Her mouth collides with yours and you're shot to the highest heavens. You might have been the best sex she's ever had but that statement goes both ways. You regret so much what you ruined but you don't know how to keep it functioning and well maintained either so this is your middle ground. Ever since you broke up, you've slept with her six times over the course of three months. It's just the way you work best – no attachments.

She detaches her lips too soon and all you can do is lean your head against the soot thick wall and watch her walk away.

"So dude, score or no score?"

You shake your head and order a shot.

"Ha! She totally shot you down. That's ten hours for each of us."

"Whatever," you throw back and let the hot liquid burn your throat. "I'll give you each five hours next week – Monday Puckerman, Tuesday Sam and Wednesday Finn because you're my least favorite."

"Holding you to your word Lopez."

* * *

You must have fallen asleep or lost consciousness for a bit. You can hear Brittany shouting your name into your ear.

"Santana, hello? I'm coming okay. You just stay still and watch your time, don't let anyone steal it. Santana, hold on. I'm coming. Are you there?" You can hear the desperation in her voice; you don't know how long she's been trying to get you to respond.

"I'm still here Brittany; I'm okay, just messed up in the head. I don't think I've ever been so drained before."

"Thank God you're still alive. Okay, keep talking to me," you hear her soften almost like she's crying; "I don't want to lose you, wait for me Santana."

"I'll do my best," you wince as a sudden pain you didn't know of courses through your head. That is probably causing the dizziness. It kind of keeps you from focusing on anything. You feel you could slip into unconsciousness at any time.

They had been fighting over your time and Puck had knocked you against the wall you remember. Some friends they are. They all wanted your time at the same time and now you're here with only an hour and fifteen minutes left.

"Santana?" You latch on to her voice like it's your only lifeline.

"Yeah Britt?"

"Think of something, anything. Talk to me, tell me what you're thinking about." You dig deep, trying to find something, some memory to keep you hanging on. You don't even have to try very hard, the first thing you can think of is the night you met Brittany.

"I'm thinking about you." You tell her. "I'm thinking about the first night that you walked up to me."

"And I had no idea where I was," She chuckles and you smile. That laugh is one of the best things about her.

"I helped you fix your car and asked you to get a beer with me."

"You knew all along who I was, you're kind of brave."

"No, that was me not thinking. It was the best decision I ever made." You like to think she doesn't regret meeting you so much either. "Britt, I have forty minutes left."

You know she's panicking by the way she's breathing and unable to speak. It wasn't meant to upset her; you're only trying to give her a good estimate on how long she has to get to you.

"Forget the time Santana. I'm nearly there, just don't go yet."

"I'm still here Britt."

"Santana I have something to tell you."

You gulp. Whatever she's going to say is serious and you don't know if you can handle it right now.

"Santana, on Friday night I went to see you – to tell you that I'm leaving. I left already."

She's not coming for you after all. She's doing the nice thing and keeping you company for the last minutes of your life. "Okay," you say. You have so many other things to tell her and time is running out. "It's okay." You'll take your time and when you're nearly gone you'll tell her. It'll be the last thing you say – the last thing she will hear you say.

"I told my pilot to turn around, Santana I'm coming for you. I'm at the airport now. Hold on okay?"

You smile and say "okay," because you know the airport is an hour away and she won't make it. "You didn't have to come back for me. I don't matter that much. If I die, your dad will just find someone else to replace me."

You're not trying to make it sound like your giving up on life already or that the time you've used since birth was a waste. You just tell her the truth.

"Don't say that Santana. You matter. To some people – you matter."

"Yeah? To who? My so called friends took all my time even though I did owe them. Still, they don't care two rats' tails about me."

"What happened Santana? I know you probably don't want to talk about it but…why? Why you?" You want to laugh at the way Brittany's trying to figure out why shit is one of your best friends. She doesn't live in a dirty hole, she doesn't have backstabbing friends; She doesn't have to fear someone will steal her time every time she leaves her home.

"Brittany, this is my life. I made a bet with the guys that I couldn't get you to sleep with me that night. I lost and I owed them."

"That was stupid of you." She says the obvious and you want to point it out that, yes you make incredibly idiotic decisions.

"I know. But this is how I am. I'm stupid, I do things on impulse because why not? My life isn't going to get better; I might as well live everyday like it's my last. I'm not afraid of expiring." You look to your arm and see that you have 25 minutes left. "Brittany I'm sorry, I cheated on you and then I left you. I wasn't good enough and I wasn't ever going to be good enough for you. But I am sorry for hurting you."

"Don't apologize like that Santana." You hear the desperation in her voice. She's shouting for the driver to hurry up, threatening to take the wheel if he doesn't step on the peddle. "You're not going to expire yet. You can tell me you're sorry to my face."

You close your eyes and visualize her coming to you, finding out that there was no time left. You know she'll be sad because you had a bond with her unlike anybody else, but she'll get over you.

As for you, you're going to spend your last twenty minutes on this shitty planet remembering how you kissed her. You'll relive the night she took you home, stripped you of your grimy clothes and made love to you. You'll remember waking up in somebody's arms for the first time and feeling safe. You'll remember insisting to buy her dinner on your very first date even though you had to borrow time off Puckerman for it. You'll think of the day she asked you to be her girlfriend 'Please?' and how she looked at you with so much hope that you couldn't say no.

You won't think about the night you made love to her, panicked and ran off to sleep with someone else. You won't think about showing up at her house the next day to apologize and break-up with her. You won't remember all the girls you slept with to try and get her out of your system.

You'll only remember her asking you to take you back. You'll remember her forgiving you and to just 'please let's move on?' You'll remember the times you couldn't say no to her and made love to her the way she wanted you to only to walk away again.

Sometime later you open your eyes. You know you're still alive because you sure hope heaven or hell doesn't look exactly like the world you've come from. The phone pressed to your ear is dead and there are no sounds whatsoever. The bright neon green flashes and begins to count down into the seconds, 59…58…57…

Suddenly, you remember that you haven't told her. You try your hardest to restart the phone but its gone just like you will too in fifty seconds – and you haven't told her that you love her.

You didn't expect death to be like this, laying in an alley watching the seconds tick backwards and just breathing till you can't breathe anymore.

Forty seconds. These are your last seconds, you're not going to waste them on thinking about what you could have said so you fill your lungs with as much air as they can take. And you shout.

"Brittany Pierce…I love you! I love you! Even if you can't hear me, someone will hear and they'll tell you. It's crazy, I'm crazy but I'm in love with you!" You laugh because saying it feels so good and it sounds great too. So you say it again, over and over again.

"I love you Brittannnnnyyyyy"

Twenty seconds left. You're smiling now. You are ready to go.

You close your eyes and wait for it. The countdown starts inside your head 15…14…13.

And that's when you feel it. Like a wave of energy coursing through your veins. You open your eyes to see bright blue orbs looking down at you. You don't get to admire them for long before your lips are covered by hers.

There's more than just time being restored to you. You've been given a second chance to tell her. But you can do that later. Now you just want to kiss her. She squeezes your hand, making sure that you know your time is not now.

"Brittany, you're here." The smile on your face is probably wider than the ocean but you're that happy. "I love you, do you know that?"

"I do," she strokes your hair and all is right in the world, "I heard you, that's how I found you."

"Yeah, but do you know I love you? I do, I didn't want to die without letting you know."

"Santana," She holds your face so carefully, so gently. You know what she's going to say before she even says it. It's in her eyes, in her touch, in her smile in the tears that are rolling down her cheek.

"I love you too. Don't ever leave me again."

You nod because you don't think you can do it anymore – the leaving. The near death experience you had opened your eyes to what your life could be if you lived 24 more hours mending your past mistakes.

"Okay." Is all you need to say. And then you kiss her.


End file.
